One day
I want to scrawl the words of out kind.
I want my words to be the moon that pulls someone's tide
or the wind that sways the trees.
I want them to be etched in memory.
I want my words to tug at the corner of someone's lips
And fill the gaping break of someone's mind.
I desire to have my words grip darkness
And make someone stay.
I want words of mine to be something more than
Shapes strung together in lines, to form a meaning.